


Remedies

by StanxOllie



Category: Laurel and Hardy (Movies)
Genre: Babe Hardy, Comfort, Cute, Humor, Laurel and Hardy - Freeform, Laurel and Hardy Fan Fiction, Love, M/M, Oliver Hardy - Freeform, Romance, Stan Laurel - Freeform, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StanxOllie/pseuds/StanxOllie
Summary: Stan gets sick after breaking the glass of the window.  Oliver has to take care of him.
Relationships: Oliver Hardy & Stan Laurel, Oliver Hardy/Stan Laurel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Remedies

In the darkness of the morning, Oliver rolled to a sitting position on the side of his bed, planting the bottom of his feet on the cold floor. He rested his forearm on his upper leg, hung his head that was swimming heavily with irritability and worry.  
His bedfellow, Stan, turned toward Oliver's back with a low, distressed moan.

"Ollie... Ollie-I"

"I'm getting up!" Oliver barked.

Oliver stomped to his feet, marching heavily toward the Kitchen.

The light flicking on with its low electric hum, and the sound of Oliver rummaging through the cabinet's contents broke the silence of the budding dawn. Stan pushed himself up, laying his back on the headboard of the bed. He cleared his itchy sore throat, looking at Oliver's work in the Kitchen like a short-order cook getting ready for the diners' customers.  
Stan reached for the window curtain; however, Oliver rushed over, stopping him. He held Stan's wrist firmly, then threw it back at him with a sour face.

"No, none of that, again! That is how we got into this mess in the first place!" Oliver said firmly

."I didn't mean anything by it. I was trying to--"

"But you're sick now. And I'm the one that has to take care of you! " The annoyed Oliver stated.

Stan blinked a few times at Ollie, then looked down, turning his head away with his face spinning into a disappointed and apologetic form. Oliver looked around, lowering his perturbed stance. He then handed Stan a tall glass of orange juice, shooting his eyes away from his sick companion. Ollie turned to the window, pulling open the curtains. The sunlight tried its best to shine through the duck tape and other temporary repairs to the broken panes. Some frost leaked in from the thin cracks of the broken glass overnight.

Stan had somehow broken the windowpanes' trying to open the curtains a few days ago. As the two went to sleep that night, the wind became freezing and robust. Stan's side of the bed was the closest to the window. The next morning, along with the entire room being colder than a butcher's freezer, Stan was coughing heavily, almost unable to speak.

Stanley always seemed better in the morning, yet his sickness would creep up by the early afternoon. This was true for this afternoon also.

After waking up from a nap, Stan began having a coughing fit, becoming dizzy, and almost falling out of bed. Oliver noticed in the nick of time, catching the lethargic man. Stan's body leaned, almost limp within the hold of Oliver as he was positioned back into bed.  
Ollie shook him slightly, tapping his fingers lightly on Stan's cheeks and under his chin, trying to wake him from the daze. In the past few days, Stan did not eat much, which started to worry Oliver because both ate like baby caterpillars if they had the chance.

"Ollie... Ollie..." Stan called in a weak, low, dry crackling voice.

"Stan, what is it?! What do you want me to do?!" Oliver asked with emotional concern.

"I need your remedy, your medicine..." Stan replied.

"Alright...! Alright, I'll get the throat paint--"

Stan slid down to a lying position in bed, catching Oliver by his shirt collar, with the rest of his body going limp on top of the mattress. Oliver turned sharply back to Stan, looking down at him in worry. Stan's head went back and forth on top of the pillow, laboring for air as his chest hurried up and down. Ollie took out his handkerchief, wiping and patting away the wash of sweat forming on Stan's face leaning closer to his sick companion.  
Stan's weak eyelids slit open slightly, revealing pale morning sky blue eyes connecting to Oliver's concerned brown eyes.

"No, no... Not that... I need your special medicine... You're... You're the only one that can..."

"What?" Ollie paused. "Stanley, I don't--"

Stan then moved his hand to Oliver's face, gently cupping his cheek with his palm. Stan's damp eyelids fell close as his breath became labored.

"Stan... I..."

"Only from you, Ollie... Your remedy..." Stan said breathily and weakly. His hand then dropped off the side of the bed as he passed out.  
Oliver's face turned red as a tomato as he breathed out heavily through his nose, looking down at Stan. Ollie picked up Stanley's hand, putting it next to the passed-out ill man. Oliver leaned a few inches over Stan laying his palm on top of Stan's hand, then placing his other on Stan's clammy forehead.

"Dear Lord, you are burning up!" Oliver said loudly in shock and worry. "No wonder why you are saying delirious things! This cold is worse than I thought!

Oliver brought in a doctor to look at Stan immediately. His diagnosis was that Stan actually had the flu. If the fever could break overnight, his condition would be better within a few days.

"The fever should burn out the rest of the virus, Mr. Hardy. Watch over him, giving the fellow plenty of water, chicken broth, and fresh citrus-rich juices. " Ordered the physician.

"Yes, sir. Thank you. " Oliver responded.

"Doctor... Doctor... Tell Ollie to give me his special remedy..." Stan spoke out, reaching toward the confused Doctor.

"I beg your pardon? I-I do not--" The Doctor began to reply.

Oliver's body shook in embarrassment, with his eyes darting around the room quickly. Ollie went up to the Doctor, showing him out the door politely with a nervous smile.

Oliver's attention snapped toward Stan, rolling his lips in, staring daggers at the delusional man with widened eyes.

"If I did not know you were sick and feverish, I would...! ' _Tell Ollie to give me his special remedy_! ' Hmph! " Oliver said in frustration.

Mr. Hardy fulfilled the doctors' order's throughout the rest of the day, going into the night. He read the funnies from the newspaper to Stan, helped keep him steady as he drunk liquids and let the sick man take naps on his lap. It was like any other Thursday together. The difference was just that Stanley was unwell.

Late in the night, trying to keep himself awake for Stan's sake, Oliver hummed melodies to himself as he washed dishes. The sudden sound of breaking glass startled Ollie, putting him at a pause. He then quickly turned to the bedroom, seeing Stan's upper body slumped over with a broken glass cup on the floor just below him.

Oliver rushed over to Stan's side, laying him flat on the bed, but elevating his head and shoulders with both of their pillows. Mr. Hardy kicked and swept away the broken cup with his foot, then kneeled down to Stan's side. He pulled Stan's hand to his chest while holding the back of the feverish man's head with his other hand.

"Ollie... Ollie, I didn't mean it... I just... I was going to ask you..."

"I know, Stan... It's alright... My special remedy... Here..."

Oliver leaned forward to him, gently pulling Stan's head to his. Softly and slowly, Ollie laid his lips on top of Stanley's. In a delicate, caressing motion, Oliver pulled Stan's lips into his, kissing him as if to absorb the sickness away with gentle suction.  
Oliver laid Stan's arm back to Stanley's side, then took Stan’s face into his hands. Ollie wiped Stan's lips with his thumb, looking on at him as Stan opened his eyelids halfway with some renewed strength. Looking at the blushing Oliver with sparkling, glowing light blue eyes, a smile lined Stan's face, making Oliver chuckle and a smile.

"Now, can I have that remedy?" Stan asked in a scratchy voice.

"What? Stan, I thought you--"

"Your remedy, remember? Last winter, you made a tasty honey herbal tea. But this other medicine was well worth the wait. " Stan replied gleefully.

Oliver shot up thunderously, shaking the furniture around him, startling the sickly Stan. The anger and frustration on Ollie's face were equal to that of a demon losing a card game.

"You! YOU SAID! OOH! " Was all Oliver could muster from getting flustered over Stan's requests.

Ollie mumbled and groaned to himself loudly over honey and kisses as he stomped his way back to the Kitchen. Stan looked on at Oliver, confused, then turned his head forward and hung his wrist as he shrugged his shoulders.

Within a day or so, Stan felt mostly better, just as the Doctor predicted. He was still in bed due to Oliver's concern about him wanting to fully recover. Five times a day over Stan's recovery, Ollie prepared him the herbal honey tea out of spite and made it the only thing Stanley received to drink. The same was true for this morning's breakfast.

Oliver placed the tray of food on Stan's lap, then walked over to his side of the bed, lightly coughing. Stan turned his head to the sniffling Oliver in curiosity.

"I'm literally in the same bed as you, now," Oliver told Stan.

Stan looked at the newly sick Oliver as he put his foot on the side table. Wrapping his arms around Oliver, Stan said, "Now it is my turn to medicate you." He then rubbed Oliver's shoulder, with his other arm looping around the lower part of Ollie's torso. Stan's hand swam upward from Oliver's shoulder, coming to a rest on the side of Ollies' face.

Oliver lowered his head slightly, looking at Stanley through the tops of his eyes as he fiddled with his fingers. Stan lowered his eyelids with a soft smirk and a nod, then joined his lips with Oliver's.

Oliver blinked a few times after his kissed prescription, forming a light, open-mouth smile with the apples in his cheeks blooming.

"With that medicine," Oliver replied, "I will be better in no time."


End file.
